


Tooth and Nail

by meertansekh, snowblowingoverafieldofdeath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Werewolf Stiles, Angst, Dear god so much angst, F/M, M/M, Magic Stiles, PTSD Stiles, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-13 07:17:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1217365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meertansekh/pseuds/meertansekh, https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowblowingoverafieldofdeath/pseuds/snowblowingoverafieldofdeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pack has finally defeated the nogitsune and saved Stiles, but the dementia is taking its toll. After the battle, Stiles slips into a coma, his life fading with every passing minute. Scott has a decision to make, but might not like the result.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Beep..... beep..... beep...._

 

The sound was good, it meant Stiles’ heart rate was steady, even if he was unresponsive. Despite the machine’s altruistic intentions, it was about to drive Scott insane.

Stiles had been under for two days now, after they’d managed to exorcise the dark spirits, he’d been unconscious. He was hooked up to what seemed like fifty different tubes and machines, and despite his mother’s medical training, Scott couldn’t tell what half of them were. He wasn’t exactly trying, though.

 

_Beep..... beep..... beep...._

 

Scott started tapping his foot, his knee bouncing as he sat in the chair beside Stiles’ bed. They’d taken turns, Derek, Isaac, and Scott. Even if the dark spirit was gone, they wanted twenty-four hour protection on him. Kira had been by to visit a few hours ago, and Scott was grateful for the company, but she’d had to leave not long after. So here he was.

He’d brought homework with him, something to occupy his time, but he couldn’t concentrate on homework when his best friend was unconscious and not guaranteed to survive. The air smelled so strongly of chemicals in the hospital, Scott didn’t ever really like coming here even on a good day. Today... today wasn’t a good day. He’d seen his best friend struggle with sanity, questioning reality through the aftermath of the sacrifices, only to get dragged into the depths of possession. The fight to free him had been their hardest yet, and Stiles had suffered for it in more ways than one. Bandages covered him head to toe despite their best efforts to keep his body safe, some of the blood still soaking through where the wounds wouldn’t close.

The door opened behind him and Scott glanced back with tired eyes to see Derek Hale, though he couldn’t say he was happy to see him. Derek didn’t look too happy either. Another scent assaulted him and Scott stiffened, turning to see Peter sauntering in just behind him.

“What’re you doing here?”

Peter lifted a hand to his chest in mock offense, “Am I not allowed to offer emotional support in Stiles’ time of need?”

Scott gave him a half-hearted glare, then turned his eyes back to Stiles. He wasn’t ready to leave yet. Thankfully, Derek didn’t say anything just yet. The three of them sat and stood in silence for another few minutes, the beeps filling the silence. Scott started bobbing his knee again, his foot tapping quickly against the linoleum.

“We have to do something, we can’t just sit here.” He finally grumbled out, “We can’t just do nothing.”

Peter raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, propping his hands under his chin with a calm look despite the glares from the alpha and his nephew. “And what do you suggest?”

"When Derek gave Erica the Bite, it healed her epilepsy, right? Would the Bite heal his brain?" He looked between the two of them now, his eyes wide in hope. “It could work, we could fix him, and everything would be okay.”

“We should see if he’ll wake up first, it’s only been a couple days. This isn’t something you want to rush into, Scott... he’s stable for now.”

“For now, what if something goes wrong? His brain is only getting worse and we’re just standing here when there’s another option.” Scott stood, pacing the floor beside Stiles’ bed. “What if he gets worse? What if he _dies_ and we had a chance to save him and _didn’t_?!”

Peter snort indelicately, shaking his head. "Really, Scott? You're suggesting turning Stiles without even asking him? I think I may cry; you're turning into me." He paused. "Except I actually asked him if he wanted the Bite. Incidentally, he said no."

“He said no to _you_ , he didn’t want you to be his alpha. I’m his best friend, he’d want it if it was me that gave him the Bite, I know it.”

"And what if you Bite him and he dies anyway?" Peter shot back. "What if he resents you for taking away his humanity?"

“He won’t, he’s my best friend, and he knows I’d want him to do the same if it were me.”

“You shouldn’t jump into this so quickly, Scott. This is permanent. At least talk to the sheriff first.”

Peter huffed, shaking his head, "You do realize that even if he is strong, he may not survive the Bite? He still has a chance to wake up; are you really willing to risk that to Bite him?"

Scott looked down at Stiles, remembering all the years they’d spent together, from sandboxes to playgrounds, school dances and fights, they’d come through all of that together. They’d gone through loss, pain, they’d always been there for each other through everything, through the hardest times in their lives. Scott took a deep breath, glancing at the noisy machines behind his best friend as they did their best to keep him alive.

"...If I don't try anything, he's going to die for sure. A slim chance is better than none." He insisted, looking back down at Stiles’ placid face. In a moment of impulse, he grabbed Stiles’ arm, bared his fangs, and sank his teeth in.

Peter and Derek lunged at the same time, protesting, “No!” Derek grabbed Scott’s arm in a vice, but it was too late.

Peter sank back into his chair with a dry laugh. "Congratulations Scott. You _are_ me!"

Scott let go of Stiles’ arm, looking at him to search for any visible change, any reaction, anything. He set his arm gently back at his side, leaving it exposed so he could see when the healing started, if the healing started.

Peter leaned back watching Stiles start to shift awkwardly on the bed, and Scott flinched, knowing that he was probably in pain.  Derek had moved to the back of the room once more after he’d let go of Scott, brooding quietly. “He would have wanted this. He would have died if I hadn’t done it.”

"Everyone dies eventually," Peter shrugged, staring at the ceiling now with a bored stare. "Some even come back to do it again."

"But he wouldn't have. With his condition... he wasn’t going to get better on his own and the doctors can't do anything so I did." Scott glared at the elder Hale. "How long will it take for him to change? When will he start to heal?”

Peter stayed quiet, turning his head to the side as he thought. Scott watched him as he slowly leaned forward again, looking over Stiles thoughtfully. “If he survives the Bite, then it will have to heal him before he can wake up. But perhaps it will be too much and the Bite will just kill him. It’s difficult to say.”

“So... all we can do now is wait?” Scott sat back in his chair, his voice soft.

The corner of Peter’s lip curled up ever so slightly and he nodded, “Wait, and hope you haven’t killed him that much sooner.”

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hales get snarky, and Stiles wakes up. Things don't exactly go smoothly.

Peter leaned back in his chair, settling his arms behind his head as a makeshift pillow as he watched Stiles start to twitch awkwardly on the bed. He was probably in pain, whether he recognized it or not. Hard to say when he was unconscious. "I am going to go on the record now saying that I was against the idea of giving him the Bite. This is all on you, Scott."

“And I take full responsibility for it.” Scott sat back down beside Stiles’ bed, watching him closely in hopes he might wake up. Stiles’ face contorted ever so slightly, muscles twitching and tensing under the surface of his skin. He didn’t look comfortable.

In the corner where Derek had retreated, he still stood, brooding. His granite gaze locked on Stiles, though he seemed like he was contemplating speaking. Silence filled the room, and again Scott started tapping his foot, his knee bouncing incessantly.

It was Peter who finally broke the silence. “I wonder... will he think being turned into a bloodthirsty monster is better than being dead? I can speak from experience on both sides of that coin, of course; For me, being a bloodthirsty monster just seems much more fitting than a corpse. For Stiles...” Peter gave a half-hearted shrug, “I guess we’ll find out.”

“I promised him we’d do something, he wanted me to. He’d die if I didn’t, and it’s already done anyways so there’s no use arguing about it anymore, okay?”

“Everyone dies eventually,” Peter mused, inspecting one of his claws he’d extended. “Some come back to do it again.”

“ _If_ he survives the Bite,” Derek interjected, glancing coldly between the two of them, “And that’s still an _if_ , I’m sure you can have your ‘I told you so’s about whether or not he’s happy being turned, but right now he’s in pain.” Scott followed his gaze now to Stiles again, who still furrowed his brow weakly, clenching his jaw here and there. _At least he’s moving_ , Derek mused silently. He moved to the side opposite of Scott’s, settling himself in the chair. Derek looked at the alpha and silently they both took hold of Stiles, a hand on either arm as they siphoned away as much of Stiles’ pain as they could. Silence followed, and Derek closed his eyes until he could feel that Stiles was still, breathing softly in the pale bed.

Scott and Derek exchanged glances, and finally both looked away. “... How soon will he wake up? When will we know if it worked? Can’t we do anything else?” Scott looked up between the two Hales again, wide-eyed and hopeful.

“Has anyone ever told you patience is a virtue, Scott?” Peter rolled his eyes. “Either he’ll live or he won’t. That’s all there is to it.”

  
  


There was a loud, loud buzzing noise. That was the first thing Stiles noticed as he slowly woke up. And... Pounding. Weird pounding, like the steady beat of drums except there were four different beats and--

His arm hurt.

Stiles blinked open his eyes, wincing at the sudden bright lights. But he felt... He didn't feel sick anymore. Where was the nogitsune? The dark presence he was all too familiar with, the cold shadow in every corner of his mind... it was gone. Or was it? _Another trick, it has to be another trick, don’t believe it, Stiles._ He shut his eyes again tightly, trying to will the vision away. Stiles still heard the pounding, the overlapping beats around him, as well as his own blood pounding in his ears.

"What--" he murmured, his voice raspy and thin from disuse. How long was I under?

Stiles sat up slowly, panicking as he looked around the room. A hospital room. Sleeping figures of Scott, Derek, and Peter, of all people. This definitely wasn’t real.

The buzzing was a swarm assaulting his ears to the invisible war drums around him, Stiles trembled, clasping his hands over his ears as he shut his eyes, trying to breathe. _Inoutinout in, out, in, out, in... out..._ Slowly he made his shuddering breaths at least a little more steady, and bravely vowed to open his eyes, willing himself with all his might to see wherever he actually was...

He was still the hospital. The window to his right was black, it was night outside. To his left Scott started, stirring with a half snore. Stiles looked down at himself, at the needles in his arms, the blankets folded neatly at the foot of his bed that for some reason only disturbed him more. He ripped out his IVs with shaking hands, tearing off the sensor on his finger and tossing it to the ground harder than he realized. It shattered on impact, and the machines to either side of his bed started beeping their shrill, deafening maydays. _Stupid machines aren’t even real, stop it, it’s too much-_

“Stiles?”

Hearing Scott’s voice gave him pause, and in the storm of sounds and visions he made himself look at his best friend with wide eyes, wishing that it could just be real, just this once, that he wasn’t crazy because that would mean he was probably alone in a ditch somewhere and-

“Stiles, you’re awake, it worked!”

Scott came at him suddenly, arms outstretched. Stiles made a sound he wasn’t proud of, flailing backwards in a panic- straight across the other side of the bed and into Derek Hale’s lap. Though the chemical smells of the hospital made him want to cut off his nose, he could smell something distinctly more... wolf. Derek smelled like pine and soot, mixed with something Stiles could only describe as warmth. _Warmth isn’t a scent, idiot, you really have lost your mind this time, Stilinski._

He did his best to scramble out of Derek’s lap and back into his bed, since there didn’t seem to be any other direction to go. Of course, now everyone was awake, and Stiles was starting to wonder if maybe this wasn’t a trick.

The door opened and Melissa McCall rushed in, fully in attack mode. “Stiles-” She looked at him, realizing he was indeed awake and not dying despite the red alert from the machines behind him. She stepped closer towards the bed, stethoscope at the ready, but Scott stopped her, “He’s alright, I promise. Can you give us a few minutes? Please?”

Melissa looked at her son, then at Stiles, who might as well have been her second son. After a moment of sharing a stern gaze with Scott, she reluctantly nodded, “Okay... A few minutes. But then I’m coming back to check him over head to toe and I’m not taking no for an answer.” She gave that look only mothers were capable of, her eyes on Scott and Stiles especially. Stiles noticed she threw a less than pleasant glance at Peter before the door closed behind her.

Everyone was looking at Stiles now, and he couldn’t say he ever really liked that feeling, and now it was just perfect.

“Tell him, Scott.” Derek’s voice rang through the buzzing and the drum beats and Stiles looked his way, still taking in the fact that they were actually here and the nogitsune hadn’t tried to make him strangle them yet.

“Tell me... T-Tell me what?” His eyes flicked from face to face, and he glared as he saw Peter again. “And what is he doing here?”

Peter only smirked, "Yes Scott. Tell him. I can't wait to see his reaction at the news."

All eyes were on Scott now. Stiles stared at him, waiting for his answer.

“I... gave you the Bite. We didn’t know if you’d wake up, so I... yeah.” He gestured to Stiles’ arm, where a bit of dried blood remained, but no scars.

Stiles wasn't entirely sure how he felt at that revelation; his first thought went to the memory of Peter holding up his arm, teeth extended, ready to bite. "You gave me the Bite." His voice was flat; he felt numb, it wasn’t real, this couldn’t be real, if it was real... well, he didn’t know what would be different, but it just couldn’t be real.

"I--" Stiles closed his eyes. He felt scared, angry, even if he knew Scott had the best intentions. "I didn't want--"

"I told you so," Peter cut in with a smirk. Scott growled in his direction, and somewhere in the exchange Stiles realized that the drum beats he’d been hearing were actually their hearts which was kind of very weird and made him feel gross. He didn’t want to hear every single bodily function in the room.

"Stiles, if I thought I had a choice I would have asked you, but the doctors didn't know if you'd wake up and-"

“Maybe we should give him some space, Scott.” Derek proposed, but Stiles only grabbed his head, trying to breathe.

“Don’t leave, just... just everyone _stop_ for a minute, I need to... I need to-”

“Are you asking us to stop breathing?” Peter asked in his most helpful tone.

“Okay, _he_ can leave.” Stiles huffed, still clinging to his head.

Derek managed the slightest of smirks and got up, “You heard him.”

Peter tsked, smirking slightly. “After I came here to visit, you’re kicking me out for a little joke? My, my, Stiles. It seems as though turning into a werewolf has taken away your sense of humor. And you were always the funny one... such a shame.” But he stood, brushing some imaginary dust off his jeans. “Would you like me to inform your father that you’re awake on my way out?”

“No, not yet, I’ll... Just give me a few minutes...” Stiles breathed, trying desperately not to have another panic attack.

Peter just smiled and headed out, whistling a cheery tune that could be heard down the hallway.

“Is it always this loud?” Stiles muttered, trying to focus on something other than the growing panic in his chest. He closed his eyes and even more sounds swept over him; the footsteps of many people, too many conversations to count, machines upon machines and humming lights and-

“I think there’s people having sex on the next floor,” he mumbled, covering his ears with a grimace. The other two werewolves both stopped a moment to listen, and simultaneously started shifting awkwardly in their chairs. Scott coughed into his hand, and Derek finally spoke to fill the silence.

“Well... you’re not wrong.”

Stiles just started to laugh, though the sound was strained. "Oh god... Does this happen a lot?"

“... A little too often. You’ll learn to focus your hearing, though. It’ll just take some time.”

Stiles sighed, closing his eyes as he tried to focus on something other than the noises upstairs. Other sounds were filtering in now; people talking, footsteps, beeping. "How do you make it stop?"

"Focus and practice... just breathe, and focus on one thing. Focus on my voice. Try and imagine it's like a stereo, and you can turn down the knob slowly until you've got it just right..." Derek coached, “Does that help?”

Stiles took a few deep breaths as he tried to do just as Derek said. He focused on the man’s voice and- holy crap, he could focus! Or maybe not. He took another breath and started over. He focused on Derek’s voice and tried to do as the werewolf said. It took a few tries, but eventually Stiles managed to tune out the excess noise.

“Better?” Derek asked, sparing a glance at Scott.

Stiles nodded, taking another deep breath. Scott interjected, “See, it’s all going to be okay now. You’re healed, and as soon as you feel up to it we can get you used to everything else, right?” Scott reached out to put a hand on his arm, worried for him. "Do you want me to talk to your dad about it? It... It was me who gave you the Bite, so... I can if you want."

Stiles jerked slightly, automatically; he was still angry and confused and not quite sure this was real, but it was Scott and Scott was trying to help... "I can tell him myself. I suppose he'll be happy I'm not dying anymore."

Scott nodded hopefully and Derek sighed, shaking his head ever so slightly. He said nothing though. "There will be time for that later."

“You don’t hate me, right? I mean, we kind of talked about it before and everything...”

Stiles made a soft whimpering noise. He was too overwhelmed and angry and he wanted everything to be normal again. "Of course I don't hate you, Scott..." He squeezed his friend’s hand in what was supposed to be a comforting manner… Until he heard the bones crack beneath his grip. “Oh… Oops.”

Scott winced, his eyes flashing red for a brief moment, before pulling his hand free. He flexed his fingers, a small frown on his face as the bones healed themselves, looking almost as though he wanted to ask if Stiles had done that on purpose.

Stiles didn’t know, because he was afraid that a small part of him had done it on purpose. He knew that, if he truly was a werewolf now and this all wasn’t just an hallucination that the nogitsune was forcing on him, he was strong enough to break Scott’s bones.

He was just as strong as Scott now.

Okay, maybe not just as strong, but he was stronger than he had been.

Only if this was all real, though. Which it was entirely possible that what he was seeing now wasn’t anything more than an hallucination.

God, he hoped it was an hallucination. He didn’t want to be a werewolf. Not after seeing the struggle that Scott had gone through, not after finding out about his Spark. He couldn’t believe… He couldn’t believe that Scott would do that to him. Just- just Bite him. Just like Peter had Bitten Scott. He remembered Scott mentioning ‘doing something’ about his dementia. He remembered, but he thought that meant magic, a spell, something other than _this_ -

“Stiles?”

He heard his heart start to quicken, but he paid it no attention. This wasn’t real, this couldn’t be real. Scott would never do something like that to him; Scott wouldn’t Bite someone without their consent. It went against everything Scott believed in.

“Stiles!”

This can’t be happening. It has to be an hallucination. The nogitsune was just taking his worst nightmare- being Bitten against his will- and forcing him to live through it. It was all the nogitsune. The nogitsune was the cause of the pain and betrayal and anger he could feel brewing underneath the growing panic.

“What did you do?”

Wait. Was he having a panic attack? Wasn’t being a werewolf supposed to fix his problems? Definitely an hallucination then. _Stupid nogitsune. Starting to get weak, if you’re making mistakes like this_.

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Maybe it would be better for both of you to leave, for now.”

Was he breathing? He couldn’t tell.

“But Mom-”

“Now, Scott!”

He should be breathing. But he couldn’t seem to get any air in. Or out. Yep. Definitely a panic attack.

“Come on, Stiles, breathe with me. In… Out… In… Out…”

Stiles listened to the voice, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out in time with the words. His heart slowly returned to its normal pace and he opened his eyes- _When had he closed them?_ \- to stare up at Melissa.

Melissa McCall offered the boy a small smile, running her fingers through his hair gently. “There we go. How are you feeling, Stiles?”

Stiles took a few more slower breaths before he felt steady enough to answer. “I- Yeah, I’m okay. I don’t know what happened. That panic attack came out of nowhere.”

“It’s okay. Just keep breathing, Stiles.” She kept moving her fingers through his hair, her voice low and soft. Melissa grabbed one of his hands, covering it with hers to give it a reassuring pat, “You’re alright.”

He squeezed her hand, carefully this time because he knew she wouldn’t heal right away like Scott. “I think I- I think I’m fine. I’ll be okay. You know me; always okay. What happened?”

Melissa smiled, albeit weakly. “I think you just got a little overwhelmed... I have a feeling I know what happened in here earlier... care to tell me your side?”

Stiles blinked a few times and sighed. “Well, the last thing I remember is- is the nogitsune going after Scott… And then I wake up and- and I’m here and it’s _loud_ and Scott’s saying-” He cut himself off and took another deep breath before he gave himself another panic attack. “The nogitsune screwed up…”

“Stiles... the nogitsune is gone.” Melissa spoke softly, meeting his gaze. “I don’t know all the details, but Scott told me they worked with Deaton and were able to... to get it out of you.”

Stiles blinked and then blinked again. Gone? The nogitsune was gone? His gaze turned suspicious then hopeful. “This is real?” His voice was a whisper. “But how do I know that? Everything felt real before, and it wasn’t. The nogitsune trapped me in my mind, before. How do I know this isn’t the same? How can I _know_?”

Melissa McCall took his hand in both of hers now, leaning in closer. She let out a sigh, giving his hand a squeeze. “Well... if I wasn’t real, would I know about the time you and Scott found a turtle outside and hid it in one of my vases?”

Stiles couldn’t help but snort. “It was so little and looked so lost,” he murmured, a small smile quirking at his lips. He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, just holding it for a moment as he simply listened. He could hear his own heart beating and the bleeding rushing through his veins and yep, still gross. He could hear Melissa’s heart as well, slower and steadier than his own. He was still scared, still angry, still confused. He let out the breath and opened his eyes. “This is real? The nogitsune is gone?”

“This is real, Stiles.” She nodded, patting his hand again. “You’re safe. Do you want me to get your dad? He will be so happy to know you’re awake... last I saw he was talking to the doctors. He’s been taking shifts in here when he could.”

Stiles simply nodded. If this was real, and it certainly seemed real, he wanted to see his dad. “Can I go home soon?”

“I’ll just need to look you over, for my peace of mind if nothing else. I’ll have to think of something to explain your miraculous healing... but it’s not the first time for that around here, either. I’ll think of something. For now, open wide and say ‘Ah’, you know the drill.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can we just give Stiles hugs instead of more angst? No? Sorry, Stilinski. More angst in your future.
> 
> In other news, the turtle was named Leonardo for obvious reasons.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and his father arrive at home, but the thin mask of calm quickly shatters when Stiles realizes how much he's truly lost.

Sheriff Stilinski fiddled with the knobs in the cruiser, switching through radio stations even though he really wasn’t listening. The drive home was quiet, the silence deafening between the two of them. John knew what must have happened, even if Stiles didn’t want to talk about it until they got home. There was really only one thing that _could_ have happened, at least that he could think of. He wasn’t exactly an expert.

The ride home was excruciating. From the corner of his eye John could see Stiles looking out the windows, he looked so goddamned tired. Stiles wasn’t talking a mile a minute like he always was, he wasn’t pointing out that one streetlight that was a different color from the rest of them, or the portion of neon that had burned out in the McDonald’s sign that made the famous ‘M’ an ‘N’. He wasn’t tapping anything, he wasn’t bouncing around... as much as it had annoyed him in the past, John couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. _Maybe he just needs time._

Finally, he pulled into the driveway, putting the cruiser in park. The two entered the house, and John made sure to lock the door behind him.

 

Stiles walked in, assaulted by familiar smells that seemed ten times stronger than he ever remembered. He ran a hand through his hair and shut his eyes, trying to shut out the unnecessary scents and sounds, to focus. He squeezed his eyes tight, trying to think, to just breathe-

“Stiles... will you tell me what happened now?”

Stiles almost missed the question, he was concentrating so hard on tuning out the excess noises and smells. He could still hear the fridge in the kitchen, humming away, and his stomach rumbled. Then his father’s words registered, and he opened his eyes to look at his dad.

“I-” He took a deep breath and decided to just say it. _Rip it off like a bandaid_. “Scott gave me the Bite.”

The sheriff looked at his son, nodding slowly as he took a few steps closer. “... I thought as much.” He glanced away, not quite sure how to react. “So... so you’re a... you’re one too, now.”

Stiles sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “... Yeah. I’m a werewolf now.” He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Now that the panic was gone, and he was _mostly_ convinced that this wasn’t an hallucination, he could try to come to terms with his new status.

Werewolf. He was a werewolf.

“I don’t want to be a werewolf…” The words slipped out without thought.

John met Stiles’ eyes and frowned. “I... never wanted that for you either, son.” He admitted in a low voice.

“I… I don’t know what to do, dad,” he said, sucking in a breath. “I- I mean… I never wanted to be a werewolf, and Scott… He just Bit me and he didn’t even wait to ask if- if I wanted it…” He closed his eyes, but opened them almost immediately again. “And it’s changing me. I can _feel_ it.”

The sheriff stepped over to his son, putting his hands on his shoulders, “You’re still you, Stiles. No one can take that from you. I’m sure... I’m sure Scott had the best intentions, and frankly, I’m just over the moon that you’re alright. I couldn’t stand to lose you, son...” He pulled him into an embrace, “We’ve been through hell and back enough times already... what’s one more?”

Stiles leaned into his father’s embrace, closing his eyes tight against the tears that were quickly threatening to fall. But his father’s words were true enough; after everything they’ve been through, this was relatively tame. They would work it out. That was that they could do. After all, there was no going back from the Bite.

“I don’t want to think right now,” he mumbled, pulling away with a sigh. “I don’t want to deal with- with _this_ right now. Do you have to go back to work?”

John reluctantly let him go, giving Stiles’ arm a squeeze. “Considering everything that happened, I put in for some personal time away. They’ll call me if there’s something they can’t handle.” He smiled weakly, patting Stiles’ arm. “How about a movie marathon? You pick and I’ll start the popcorn. Deal?”

Stiles nodded, smiling weakly. “What about Star Trek? All of them. We haven’t done that for a while.”

“Star Trek it is.” His father smiled back, “Go ahead and start it up, the popcorn won’t take long.”

Stiles nodded and headed upstairs; he had every single Star Trek movie on DVD up in his room. He grabbed them all, and was about to leave when something stopped him. He glanced over at the line of mountain ash on his window sill and a sense of dread filled him. He set the pile of movies down on his bed, moving to the window to stare at the seemingly innocuous powder.

His hand trembled as he pushed it forward, dread filling him. Suddenly, the barrier flashed and thrust him back a step and Stiles felt his heart stop.

“No,” he whispered, trying again and again, but his hand hit the same barrier every time. He tried to use a slashing motion to break the barrier, but again he was repelled. “No!” He spun around where he stood, holding his hands out and trying to perform the few simple spells he had learned so far. He mumbled the words in a flurry, every one he could think of, but none of them worked.

_It’s gone. My Spark is gone._

Stiles slumped to the ground where he stood, making a pathetic whining noise. His Spark was gone.

 

The microwave let out a loud _ding!_ and John gladly took out the steaming bag of freshly popped corn. His fingers stung from the scalding steam as he pulled apart the opening of the bag, but hey, no pain, no gain. It wasn’t until he’d put the snack in a bowl that he realized Stiles still hadn’t come downstairs. A sinking feeling wallowed in his chest, and John decided he’d better check on Stiles, even though he was probably just taking a little time to himself. If he’d learned anything as sheriff, it was that he couldn’t be too cautious.

The sheriff made his way up the stairs, his worry only increasing as he heard what sounded like a whine from within Stiles’ room.

“Stiles? You okay, son?”

He pushed open the door, glancing in to find him on the ground, looking utterly defeated. “Stiles..” In moments, John was at his side. He put his arm around his son, rubbing his shoulder, “Stiles, talk to me.”

Stiles leaned against his father heavily, his entire body shaking with suppressed sobs. “It’s gone,” he whispered, his voice small and broken. “My- my Spark… It’s gone. I can’t- I can’t do the spells anymore… I can’t manipulate mountain ash… Everything is gone. I’m not- I’m not me anymore.”

John held his son to his chest, taking a slow breath, “It’ll be alright, Stiles... I promise. It’s horrible right now, I know, but it’s going to get better. You’re still _you_. You’re still my son, you’re still Stiles. We’re going to get through this together, okay?” He rocked him gently, as he used to when he was much smaller. He seemed as fragile now as he had been as a child. “This is a big change... but you’re going to get through it. You’ve survived crazed werewolves, psychotic hunters, kanimas, that nematode thing...”

“Nemeton, dad.”

“Yeah, that. Pretty sure you’ve been through more in one year than all of my deputies combined. And you’re still here.” He smiled and pulled away slightly to look him in the eye. “Life is hard, Stiles. I won’t lie to you, it’s only going to get more complicated with every damn day, but you survive, you adapt, and you change whether you want to or not. And who you are...  you decide who you want to be, Stiles. You may have lost things, but you were always more than your Spark, more than just someone one who can use mountain ash. You’re _Stiles_.”

Stiles started shaking his head about halfway through his father’s speech, feeling his own dread in his chest like a heavy weight. “But I’m not! I’m not Stiles anymore! I’ve lost everything that Stiles was...” His voice cracked and he dropped his gaze. “I’ve lost my Spark, my humanity, even my mind. I’m still not convinced this isn’t real! And-” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Dad… It’s changing me. It’s changing my _brain_. I can feel it. I- I can concentrate. I don’t- I don’t feel fidgety, I-… I’m not me anymore.”

Stiles shook at the revelation, because it was something that struck him bone deep. If he was no longer Stiles, then who was he? He was no one, nothing. He was just another werewolf. 

“I’m not me…”

“You’re not the same as you were, that’s... that’s true, but you’re still you, Stiles. You’re just... a different Stiles than you were before.” He grabbed his shoulders firmly, “You... you are different now. There’s no going back. You have to decide what that means for you now, no one can do that for you. I know it’s hard... and it’ll take time. I’ll be here when I can, Stiles. You can do this, I know you can.”

Stiles shook his head. “I- I can’t, dad… I don’t- I’m nothing. I’m lost. How can I be me when everything that I was is gone? How?!”

Stiles stopped himself and took a deep breath, in and out, giving himself a moment before continuing. “I’ll figure it out later. Ignoring it now. Maybe it will be gone later. That would be nice.” He looked up at his dad. “Is the popcorn ready?”

His father sighed and nodded slowly. “Yeah, you have the movies?” John knew they couldn’t just patch this up in one night. Maybe a distraction would be a good thing, for now. He patted Stiles’ shoulder, then stood, helping his son up even though he knew he didn’t need it. “Star Trek sounds like just the thing. Come on, kiddo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I wonder if we should feel bad for what we put Stiles through... but then we remember how much we enjoy the agony of our favorite fictional characters and cackle off into the night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Star Trek marathons can only do so much... Stiles has to face Scott for the first time since he got home from the hospital, plus a surprise visit from another local werewolf.

Sheriff Stilinski made it three hours into their Star Trek marathon before he dozed off. He snored here and there, sunken into the couch comfortably. Stiles knew his father likely hadn’t been sleeping much in the past few weeks, given everything that had happened. Of course, Stiles hadn’t been sleeping much either. He stubbornly forced his eyes to stay open, though, despite the burning in his lids. His body ached for sleep, but he kept his eyes on the screen.

He wasn’t watching Star Trek anymore, not really. Figures passed by on the screen, blobs of color moving around aimlessly in front of his eyes. It had proven to be a good distraction at first, when his father was still awake and they could make comments on the equally fantastic yet primitive special effects. But now Stiles was alone.

It wasn’t until he sat up to reach for his phone that he realized he was shaking, and an icy chill snaked down his spine, something so horribly familiar he could have cried. _Fear_. Stiles froze, swallowing as he tried to remember to breathe.

**_It isn’t real, you know._ **

Stiles felt sick. _No, it’s gone, they said he was gone-_

**_And you believed them?_ **

He squeezed his eyes shut and beat his palms against his temples, his breathing hard and ragged. “No... nonono, _no_ , it’s not-” His face was wet now, he felt hands on his shoulders and flinched, twisting out of the grasp in a panic. Stiles was on his feet now, he balled his hands into fists and something sharp bit into his palms. His vision blurred and he turned on the voice coming from the couch with a rumbling growl.

“Stiles! Stiles, it’s me, calm down, breathe with me, _breathe_ -” John looked up at his son with wide eyes, holding his hands up.

Stiles stopped abruptly, feral eyes looking over the figure on the couch. He met his eyes, and realized suddenly that his father was _scared_ of him. Slowly, Stiles unclenched his fists, looking down at his trembling hands to see glistening claws, his own blood dripping from his palms to the carpet. For a surreal moment all he could think of was how his dad would be mad about the stain.

“Stiles... breathe, talk to me.” His father was standing now, an arm outstretched to him, “You’re okay, son. You’re okay, just breathe.” Stiles tried to do as he said, but air didn’t seem to come easily.

“I... Dad, I-I didn’t mean to-” Before he knew what was happening, he was enclosed in his father’s firm hold. Stiles’ breaths came out in ragged gasps, tears burned hot on his cheeks and he hesitantly wrapped his arms back around his father. The two of them stood like that for several minutes, though neither bothered to count.

Half-muted explosions and shouts still rang out from the television, the blobs of color still bustling about as if nothing was wrong, but neither Stilinski was watching Star Trek any longer.

“Dad...” Stiles voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper, “Is this real?”

The sheriff held his son close still, nodding into Stiles’ shoulder, “Yes... yes, this is real, Stiles.”

Silence fell between them, save for the static sounds from the television. It was music now, the credits rolling black and white on the flickering screen. “... How do I know? I... I can’t... what if this is just a-a hallucination.. What if it’s a lie?”

John only held his son tighter, “It’s real, Stiles. I’m real, you and I are both here, right now. This is real.”

Stiles hesitated, then relaxed his hold to look at him. “Prove it.”

The sheriff looked at his son, giving him a strained smile. “Ask me something only I would know. Anything.”

“What’s my full name? First, middle, last. Pronounced correctly.”

“Easy one.” He smiled, “Egidiusz Genim Stilinski.”

Stiles sighed in relief and buried his face against his father’s neck, taking a deep, shuddering breath. He almost forgot to breathe out again, the panic still tight in his chest. He couldn’t forget the mocking voice in his head, the icy touch of the nogitsune still palpable in his memory.

“I just want everything to go back to normal…”

“I’m sorry... I’m not going to lie to you, Stiles. Things aren’t going go back to normal,” John sighed, patting his back lightly, “But we’ll get through this. I promise you.”

Stiles nodded weakly, breathing a little more steadily now. The main menu music played on loop from the TV behind them. Finally, Stiles pulled away, meeting his father’s eyes with a weak smile before he turned to go switch the discs to the next movie.

A sharp knock resounded from the door and Stiles flinched. John sighed, “I’ll take care of it. Go ahead and start up some more popcorn for us, kiddo.” He gave Stiles a smile, then headed to the door. Stiles moved across the hall quickly, not wanting to see whoever was at the door, heading into the kitchen to start up another bowl of popcorn.

John didn’t even bother looking before he opened the door. He couldn’t say he was surprised to see who was on the other side.

“It’s not really a good time, Scott.”  
 “Is Stiles okay?”

The sheriff sighed, holding out a hand when Scott tried to push himself through the door anyways. “I know you’re worried, but he really needs some time-”

“Just let me talk to him? Stiles, I know you can hear me... come on, Stiles, please?”

Stiles sighed when he heard Scott’s plea, grumbling wordlessly under his breath as he shoved the popcorn into the microwave roughly. He then peered around the corner, though he didn’t step fully into the hall yet. He didn’t say anything, just looked at his best friend and waited.

Scott sighed and looked at him from the door, “Can we just talk a minute? Please?” The sheriff looked back at his son and raised a brow, ready to shut the door if that’s what Stiles needed.

Stiles huffed out another sigh and stepped fully into the hall, crossing his arms protectively against his chest. He was still reeling from his panic attack minutes ago, but he could rarely say no to Scott. “What do you want?”

“I want to help you.” Scott took a step forward with a glance at the sheriff, who stepped aside, still at the ready just in case. “You helped me out when I turned, you shouldn’t have to go through this alone. Let me help you, Stiles.”

Stiles fought the urge to step back as Scott moved closer, not wanting to hurt the other teen’s feelings. “I- I just need time, Scott. I’m trying to process everything, trying to figure out what I’m going to do now. Just give me some time to figure things out, Scott. Please.”

Scott frowned, hurt. “Stiles, I just wanna help you... are you mad at me? Is that what this is about? I did what I did to save your life, I didn’t have a choice-”

“Save? You took away my life!” Stiles shocked even himself by the shout, uncrossing his arms to clench his fists at his sides. “You had a choice, Scott! There is always a choice! You _knew_ I didn’t want to be a werewolf, but you Bit me anyway! You didn’t even ask!”

“You were unconscious, I couldn’t!” Scott challenged, pain clear in his expression, “I told you I’d do something, and I _did_! I saved my best friend the only way I knew how, why are you so angry?”

Stiles growled low, unconsciously, the anger suddenly flaring up. “Because you took away everything that I was without even asking me first! Yes, I was unconscious, but that shouldn’t- I didn’t want the Bite! You _knew_ that! You _knew_ I refused Peter! Why would you even think that _that_ was an acceptable solution? I thought you meant, like, a spell or something!”

“I thought you said no to Peter because you didn’t want him as an alpha, Stiles, I didn’t... I didn’t know, okay? I thought-” Scott huffed, pacing back and forth in the hall, “Stiles, I thought you would be happy, I mean, what if we couldn’t find another way? I didn’t think there was another way! It’s not like any of us can use magic anyways!”

“No, _none_ of _us_ can do magic,” Stiles spat, feeling his claws extend into his palms again. But the pain was keeping him from lunging at Scott. “But you know what? I _used_ to be able to do magic! _Used_ to! But not anymore! No. Scott, my Spark is gone!” He sucked in a breath, feeling his eyes fill with angry tears. “My Spark is gone, my humanity is gone, my freaking mind is _gone_! Everything is gone! _Stiles_ is gone!”

“You... You could do magic?” Scott blinked, looking between Stiles and his dad, lost. “I-I didn’t know, why didn’t you tell me? I didn’t know the Bite would take that away, I didn’t _know_...”

John stepped in front of Scott with a firm glance, “Scott... I think you should go.”

The alpha lowered his head and nodded slowly, looking back up at Stiles. “Just... call me, when you can. Okay? You’re still pack, Stiles. I just wanted to help.” Resigned, he turned and left without another word. Sheriff Stilinski closed the door behind him and let out a slow breath. He moved back to Stiles and gently clasped his hands over Stiles’ fists, gently urging him to peel back his fingers where they dug into his palms. He said nothing, mostly because he didn’t know what to say.

Stiles looked at his claws as his father slowly pried them out of his palms. He noticed his palms healing, and watched with detached interest. At least he had healing ability now, right? WIthout thinking, he brought one hand up and dug the still extended claws right into his chest, dragging them down several inches. Blood dripped, soaking his shirt.

John quickly reached for his hands again and pulled at them, but against Stiles’ newfound strength he could only hope his son would stop himself. “Stiles, Stiles stop!”

Stiles blinked and pulled his claws out of his chest, watching as the bloody marks slowly healed. “Dad…”

His father watched, pained, as his son’s chest healed itself. John took Stiles’ face in his hands and took a deep breath, “Stiles... Stiles, listen to me.” He looked him in the eye, making sure he was listening, “We’re going to get through this together. You’re going to be okay, Stiles. Talk to me.”

Stiles blinked again before focusing his attention on his father’s face. “He didn’t even ask,” he whispered finally, his voice broken and soft. “I- I’m not me and I can’t go back and I just want… I don’t know what I want but it hurts. I just want it to stop hurting and seeing him makes me so angry…”

John kept his face in his hands, leaning closer, “Then you don’t have to see him. You don’t have to be in his pack. Learn enough to control it and then go back to being just a kid in high school. Believe me, I never wanted you to have to deal with anything like this if I had any say in it... But, you can’t go back now. This... is what it is.” He sighed, moving his hands to Stiles’ shoulders. “But you have other people you can talk to, right? Isaac, Derek... maybe they can help you. If Scott cares about you as much as I think he does, he’s not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to.”

“He’s my alpha, he... he can command me” Stiles whispered in the same broken voice. But he heaved out a big sigh. “...Do you have wolfsbane bullets?”

John froze. He took a deep breath, "I... spoke with Chris Argent, after I found out about all of... this... I thought they might be useful, in a worst-case situation..." He looked at Stiles, "But I won't use them on you. You're my son, Stiles... the last thing I have left. I won’t."

Stiles blinked, the confusion clear on his face. He didn’t understand for a long moment. Why would his father… But then he looked down at his bloodied holes in his shirt and flushed. “No!” he said quickly, dropping his gaze. “No, Dad… I meant… I meant if Scott comes around again… and he won’t leave…”

John laughed out a nervous sigh, “Oh god, okay, good. Yes, Scott, I would shoot.” He realized how that sounded a few moments after he said it, “Only if there was no other way, of course.”

Stiles smiled weakly, reaching out to grasp one of his father’s hands. “Okay. Good. Just... Don’t shoot to kill, okay?” He heard the microwave ding and he snorted. “That took a lot less time than it felt like…”

The sheriff chuckled and patted Stiles’ hand, “Non-lethal, don’t worry. I’ve got good aim.” He headed for the kitchen, patting Stiles’ back, “Go get comfy, we’ve got a lot more Star Trek to get through.”

Stiles snorted and nodded, heading into the living room. He quickly switched disks and settled on the couch, waiting for his dad to come back with the popcorn to start. John joined him as soon as the popcorn was in the bowl, hot and steaming and smelling delicious as always. He smiled and sat, just as another knock resounded from the front door.

John groaned, not wanting to get up and bother. “Go away, Scott.” He shouted from his seat. Another voice answered, though.

“It’s Derek, can I come in?”

Stiles hesitated a moment before nodding at his dad. “Yeah. Fine. Whatever.” John gave Stiles a look of indecision, but sighed and got up, groaning as his back popped. He unlocked the door, letting Derek fend for himself the rest of the way.

Derek walked in, smelling blood the moment the door opened. He looked at Stiles, eyes wide as he saw the blood on his shirt. “... Did Scott do that?”

“Hm?” Stiles looked up at the older werewolf before realizing where the man’s gaze was directed. “Oh… No. I, uh… I did that.” He gnawed on his lip for a moment, dropping his gaze. “Why are you here, Derek?”

Derek stayed at the mouth of the hall, keeping a fair distance. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright... I know things got tense back at the hospital, and I’m guessing Scott just dropped by...” He paused, looking between him and his father, “I can go, if you want.”

Stiles picked idly at one of the ragged tears in his shirt, unable to meet Derek’s gaze. “I’m not going to say I’m okay, because I’m really not. I’m not me anymore and I have to deal with that. And Scott… He doesn’t understand.”

The elder werewolf nodded slowly, “No one should go through this alone. Scott... had good intentions, but if you need someone else to help you learn the ropes, you can call me.”

Stiles relaxed slightly, though only slightly. “Yeah. Okay.” He breathed out slowly. “Thanks Derek.” He hesitated before looking up at the man with a weak smile. “We’re watching Star Trek. Want to join us? There’s popcorn.”

Derek blinked, looking to Stiles’ dad, who seemed just as surprised as he was. John shrugged and nodded, “We do have plenty of popcorn...” he agreed, though he wasn’t exactly the fondest of sharing his food with anyone but Stiles. He’d do it if it made Stiles happy, though.

“If you want, sure...” Derek contemplated the seating arrangement, at first planning on taking up the chair sitting a few feet from the couch, but then he saw Stiles scoot over on the couch. Not wanting to reject his silent offer, Derek found himself sitting beside Stiles. The sheriff didn’t seem to be pulling a gun just yet, that was good.  

John picked up the remote, starting up the next movie. Stiles seemed content, so he was too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, things are certainly still tense in the Stilinski house. Star Trek marathons always help. Someone should get Stiles a pet turtle, maybe that'd make him smile.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek talk about his options after the Bite, all while watching Star Trek and trying to stay awake.

Before the next movie had even ended, John Stilinski had fallen asleep all over again. Stiles and Derek still sat side by side, watching the flickering screen and eating popcorn. This was not exactly how Derek had expected this visit to go. He couldn’t say he was disappointed, though. Considering recent events, it was a welcome change of pace, and seemed to be just what Stiles needed.

The two wakeful werewolves sat side by side, staring at the screen. Derek tapped his fingers on his knee, but said nothing. Unspoken questions swarmed in his mind, but Stiles seemed truly relaxed for what Derek imagined was the first time in weeks. His questions could wait.

“Look, if you want to say something, go ahead. I’m not gonna shatter into a million pieces if you try to talk to me.”

Derek turned to look at him, though Stiles still kept his eyes on the TV. He hadn’t realized he’d been so obvious, but now that Stiles confronted him he couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. For another few moments, neither of them said a word.

“I think I’m finally starting to accept that there’s no one else in my head now, so... at least there’s that. Ten points Gryffindor.”

Derek nodded and turned back to the TV, since Stiles didn’t seem fond of eye contact at the moment. “That’s good.” He agreed with a murmur, crossing his arms over his chest now.

Stiles sighed, keeping his eyes on the screen. He could see Derek’s fingers tapping and wondered, not for the first time, about his own lack of desire to move. He was content sitting still, focused on the movie. “The dementia is gone,” he added. “So yeah, that’s good. I’m pretty sure it healed my ADHD too. So no more bouncing off the walls and being unable to focus and maybe even a brain to mouth filter.”

Derek nodded once more, glancing his direction briefly. “I’m sure you’ll get used to the changes soon... I know it’s not easy.”

“My brain doesn’t feel right,” he grumbled, before huffing out. “But I’ll get used to it, yeah. I just… I don’t want this.”

The elder wolf sighed, “I’m sorry... I didn’t think he’d just do it... like that. I should have stopped him. At least convinced him to wait.”

Stiles shot a glance at his sleeping father, smiling softly before just letting his whole body slump. “I don’t know what to do.”

Derek watched Stiles, finally putting a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to do anything, right now. Just sit here and watch Star Trek. Later... well, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“Scott’s my alpha now, though,” Stiles mumbled, his fingers twisting together more as a force of habit more than anything else.

“It doesn’t have to be that way.” Derek turned to face him fully. “If he cares about you half as much as I think he does, he won’t force you. You don’t have to be in his pack.”

Stiles tilted his head to the side until he was looking directly at Derek. “You mean like an omega?”

“That... or you could join another pack. Being an omega isn’t a death sentence... Especially if you just learn to control it and just do your best to blend in. You’ll always have the urge to join a pack, though... maybe one day you’ll find one you’d feel more at home in.”

Stiles nodded. “I- I don’t know if I can be around Scott right now. I just… Can’t I pretend to be normal? Just for a little bit? I’ll learn to control myself, just… Do I have to be a werewolf? I mean, do werewolfy things?”

“You’ll have to be wary of your full moons. You don’t want to be alone during one until you’ve learned to control yourself. Other than that, no. Not really. You’ll have urges, but... there’s no rule that says you have to do anything more than contain it. You just have to know that you can’t get too close to humans, not if you want to ensure their safety. You’ll never really be normal. Other creatures will know what you are, and they will come after you. Hunters will try to kill you even if you’ve never killed someone, other wolves will either try and make you part of their pack or kill you if you refuse. You’d be safer in a pack.”

Stiles sighed, shifting awkwardly for moment before simply giving up and letting his head fall tiredly to the older werewolf’s shoulder. “I remember Scott’s first full moons. I think I will be able to manage…” He tilted his head up slightly so he was looking at Derek’s chin. “You- will you help me?”

Derek looked at the freshly turned werewolf, blinking. “Of course. No one should be alone on their first full moon.” He found himself leaning against Stiles ever so slightly, though he wasn’t so used to being physically close to people unless he was hitting them.

Stiles closed his eyes and hummed softly. “I remember you stalked Scott to Lydia’s party, didn’t you? Freaked him the hell out.”

Derek snorted and nodded reluctantly, “I wouldn’t say ‘stalked’ exactly... supervised, maybe.”

“You skulked in the shadows at a teenager’s party. _Uninvited_.”

“Just to make sure he didn’t slaughter anyone.”

“You still followed him and hid in the shadows.” Stiles grinned slightly and patted Derek’s knee affectionately. “Not that it was a bad thing. Just, you know, creepy.”

“He wouldn’t listen to me. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Maybe not hide in the shadows like a creeper,” Stiles replied, his voice becoming more of a mumble. He was starting to drift off. “You’re totally hot, you know. I’m sure no one would have minded if you had came in through the front door and hung out like a normal person. Except, you know, me and Scott.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, his lip lifting in a slight smirk. “I’ll keep that in mind. Get some sleep, Stiles.”

  


John Stilinski stirred, sun streaming through the cracks in the blinds. He blinked and winced as he sat up, his spine stiff and muscles cramped. The sheriff stood and put his hands on his hips, swiveling and stretching to loosen his joints. He turned to look at Stiles, still fast asleep on the couch, his head pillowed on Derek’s shoulder. He’d forgotten about Derek.

The sheriff sighed and crossed his arms, giving his best look of disapproval even though neither was awake to fully appreciate it. A few moments passed, and finally John sighed, shaking his head. _He could do worse... At least it’s not the homicidal Hale._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a short chapter, but it seemed necessary. I think we all needed a fluff break.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek starts training Stiles, but Scott doesn't understand why he wouldn't come to his alpha.

“Come at me again. And actually try and break the skin this time.” Derek challenged, crossing his arms as he stood opposite of Stiles, who was desperately trying to win one of these stupid sparring matches. While Derek had to admit he had the strength, he had to learn to be quick, to think on his feet in a fight. Stiles had never been much of a fighter, not in the way he could be now.

Stiles snarled, unsheathing his claws once more. He was growing tired; they had been sparring for what felt like hours. It probably hadn’t been hours, but it felt like it. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he muttered, circling around Derek slowly. He crouched down low and launched himself at the older werewolf for about the tenth time.

“I’ll heal.” Derek snorted back, his eyes flashing with excitement as he saw Stiles get ready to attack. He growled and readied himself, reaching out at just the right moment to grab Stiles’ arm and fling him aside with his own momentum. “Better. Again.”

Stiles spun around to face Derek again, barely waiting to catch his breath before he launched himself at Derek again. His claws were out and he went in low this time, aiming for the man’s legs.

Derek hadn’t expected him to go for his legs. He tried to move out of the way, but Stiles’ claws sank into his calf and he winced, rolling to the ground to try and shake him off. It got his claws loose, but then they were wrestling in the dirt, teeth gnashing, claws out... until they weren’t. Derek couldn’t tell when it changed, but suddenly Stiles was laughing and falling off him and his lip had curled up into a smile.

“... That was better.”

Stiles grinned, catching his breath as he looked at Derek laying beside him on the ground. “I caught you off guard,” Stiles replied, sounding cheeky and happy. “Never thought that would happen. I may survive being a werewolf yet.” He pushed himself up onto his elbows, flexing his fingers as he sheathed his claws again. “Can we take a break now that I’ve actually drawn blood that wasn’t my own?”

“No one else is going to give you a break, not in an actual attack.” Derek jumped back up to his feet. “Come on. No slacking.”

Stiles whined and fell back, covering his eyes. “But I’m tired and hungry and we’ve been doing this for _hours_. Just a few minutes?”

“A half hour more of training and we’ll break for lunch.” Derek eyed Stiles and crouched, ready for attack again. “Curly fries and a shake, if you can beat me.”

Stiles opened one eye and looked at Derek, considering. “Fine. Half an hour. And it’s your treat.” He rolled to his feet then, unsheathing his claws and charging at Derek with all the speed he could muster.

“Stiles?”

The voice from the edge of the woods caught Derek off-guard as he readied himself for defense from Stiles’ attack. The two had locked claws, but both stopped to look at Scott as he emerged from the woods. “Stiles.. what are you doing here?”

Stiles stared at Scott, forgetting for a moment that he was locked in combat with another werewolf. He hadn’t spoken to his best friend since the day he came home from the hospital, over a week ago. He had been so angry then… Even now, seeing Scott’s hurt expression filled him rage. _How dare he look at me that way_ , he thought, pulling away from Derek with an annoyed huff.

“Derek’s giving me a few pointers on combat,” he replied after a long moment of silence. “What does it look like we’re doing?”

Scott looked between the two of them, his eyes settling on Stiles. “I just meant why didn’t you call me? I want to help you, Stiles. I saved your life, everything I’ve done is to try and help you, you don’t have to go behind my back...”

Stiles blinked at the other teen for a moment before crossing his arms. He tried to reign in some of his anger; he knew that Scott had been trying to help. But that still didn’t make him feel better. “I wasn’t going behind your back, Scott. Derek’s Pack too. And a touch more experienced than you. I mean, who helped you deal with being a werewolf at first? Oh yeah. Me.”

“And why won’t you let me help you back? Is it pride or something? Yeah, Derek’s got more experience, but I can help too. Stiles, I just...” Scott sighed, shaking his head, “I want to help you. I’m your alpha, you should feel okay coming to me for anything. We’re brothers, Stiles.”

Stiles dug his claws in his arms to prevent himself from saying something that he might regret later; because he still thought of Scott as a brother and as his best friend. But he took a step back, shaking his head. “Don’t you see, Scott? Can’t you feel it? I can’t- I can’t be around you without wanting to scream at you or attack you or hell, the last time we spoke, I hurt myself. I just… I can’t be around you right now, Scott.”

“Then when? How much time do you need?” Scott held his hands out, exasperated. “I just want to help, why won’t you let me?”

“Because you took away everything that I was!” He dropped his arms to clenching fists as his sides, digging his claws into his palms this time. “You took away everything and you didn’t even ask me first! I _never_ wanted to be a werewolf!”

“You would have died, Stiles!” Scott huffed, “I didn’t _know_ it would take away anything. I saved your _life_ , I did what any friend would do!”

“You didn’t know it would take anything away?” Stiles laughed, the sound strangled and bitter. “Tell me Scott, when was the last time you had a fucking asthma attack, huh? Didn’t being turned into a werewolf take _that_ away? What about Erica’s epilepsy, huh? What happened to that when she got turned? The evidence was there, Scott. You just refused to see it!”

“Getting rid of asthma was a good thing, the epilepsy too! Why would I think it would take away anything you wanted? I didn’t think you _wanted_ ADHD, Stiles. Isn’t that why you took adderall in the first place? You’re still _you_ , Stiles! You’re even _better,_ you can defend yourself now!”

“I AM NOT ME!” Stiles couldn’t help but practically scream. “I am not _Stiles_ anymore! My brain works differently than it used to and I’m not sure if I like the way it works now!” He paused to take a deep breath, digging his fingers deeper into his palms. “As for being _better_ , how is this better? I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself before! Yeah, sometimes I got hurt but if you haven’t realized, I always came out just fine until now. So I think I did a pretty okay job taking care of myself before!”

“Stiles...” Derek’s voice came out low and he grasped Stiles’ wrist carefully. “Breathe.”

Scott charged towards him, hurt written on his face. “So... what, you hate me now?”

“Scott, now’s not the time.” Derek sent a glare his way, but Scott McCall didn’t seem interested in anything he had to say.

“Stiles, we’ve been best friends since we could _talk_. You were going to _die_ if I didn’t do anything, how many times do I have to explain myself?”

“How many times do I have to explain _myself_?” Stiles shot back, his voice breaking slightly. He didn’t want to fight with Scott. He had been hoping to avoid this altogether and he wouldn’t be angry when he saw his best friend again. But now… Now he was just too angry and hurt to care. “I- I don’t hate you, Scott. I could never hate you. But I just _can’t_ be around you right now.” He paused, dropping his gaze and steeling himself. “I can’t be in your Pack right now.”

Scott took a step back, watching Stiles as he let those words soak in. “So... so you just want to be an omega? Stiles, it’s not _safe_ without a pack, I can’t protect you if you’re not in my Pack.”

“Actually…” Another voice cut through the clearing and Peter stepped out of the old Hale house casually, as though he had been there the whole time. “There is another option. He could form his own Pack.” He came to a stop just a step behind Stiles, his hands clasped behind his back. “He already has two betas.”

Stiles stared at Peter suspiciously before turning back to Scott, his fists still clenched. He didn’t say anything, because what else was there for him to say? He essentially just declared himself an alpha. Well, technically, Peter declared him an alpha and what the hell was that? But still; there was nothing let for Stiles to say unless he wanted to scream at Scott some more. And he didn’t actually want to do that.

“Wh-” Scott glared at Peter, “Stiles, that’s ridiculous. Don’t listen to him. Why would you want to... to start your own Pack? You have us, this is stupid. Come on, Stiles...”

Stiles closed his eyes. “... I’m sorry, Scott.”

Scott looked at Stiles, “Wait, you... you _want_ to be an alpha? Seriously?” He clenched his fists, narrowing his eyes as anger flooded his veins. His eyes flashed, Scott struggled to keep control of himself despite the storm of emotion, “Stiles, _please_...”

“I don’t _want_ to be an alpha, Scott,” Stiles replied, his voice low. He suddenly felt the need to protect his territory, his pack, from the angry alpha. “But you know what else? I don’t want to be a werewolf either. But that’s not going to change, is it?” He stopped talking, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “This… I just need time, Scott. This is something I _need_ , not want. Just give me time.”

“How much time do you need?” He huffed back, “Stiles, don’t do this. You have a Pack. We’re your friends.”

“If I knew how much time I needed, we probably wouldn’t be having this conversation!” Stiles replied, his voice still low with a hint of a frustrated growl. “It’s not something that can be calculated. Don’t you understand? I have to figure out who I am again. And I can’t do that if I’m too- too pissed off to think straight.”

“You’re Stiles,” Scott insisted, “And you’re my friend, you always-”

“I AM NOT STILES!” he shouted again, clenching his fists even tighter. He took a half step forward, and only Derek and Peter’s hands on his wrists stopped him from charging Scott. “I’m not! And no matter what anyone says, I know that I’m not Stiles anymore. No one else is inside my head, so no one else can judge.” He shook the hands restraining him off and held out his hands to his best friend, palms up and bloody, in a gesture of surrender. “You will always be my best friend and my brother. But I need time.”

Scott looked down and took a deep breath, unclenching his fists carefully. “... Is it even possible to have two alphas in Beacon Hills? I won’t fight you, Stiles, but I’m not going to just give up.”

Stiles turned to Peter and Derek to answer the question, because as far as he knew, there was no way for two Packs to exist in one territory. Peter sighed, almost as though he thought the whole process was tiresome.

“There are a few options for us here,” the oldest werewolf said, his tone bored. “The first is to try to co-exist within the territory together. That is not an easy option, though it might sound like it. Both of you will be wary of the other alpha and it will most likely end in a bloodbath. The second option is to fight it out, but you,” he looked to Scott, “already shot that option down. One of you could just leave, and if you choose that option, then I vote that our pack stays because this territory has always belonged to the Hales. Finally… Just split the territory. Make new boundaries for yourselves within the current territory.”

Stiles turned back to his best friend, feeling his heart sink at the options Peter had listed. “I’m not going to fight you, either,” he muttered after a moment. “And neither of us should _leave_. But… I don’t think I can do the whole share the territory thing. Not when I'm so upset with you... So… Split the territory?”

Scott clenched and unclenched his fists again and again, glaring at Peter, looking at Stiles. He took a deep, slow breath, then let it out. “... Fine. I’ll bring the rest of th- my Pack. Just tell me when and where.”

“Uh…” Stiles floundered for a moment, looking back at Derek and Peter before turning back to Scott. “My house?”

Scott nodded, looking away. “... Just text me. Tell me when and we’ll be there.” He turned away, defeated. Without another word, he disappeared back into the forest.

Stiles sagged as soon as Scott was out of view, covering his face with his hands. “That… Could have gone worse, I suppose,” he muttered, laughing bitterly. He honestly could say he hadn’t expected this; to become the alpha of his own Pack. _Speaking of…_

Stiles whirled around suddenly to point a finger at Peter, glaring. “If this is a ploy so that you can kill me and take my alpha power, I swear to god I will set you on fire again.”

Peter raised his hands as though in surrender. “I have no plans of murdering you, my dear alpha.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thanks to Teen Wolf constantly rewriting how things happen in the show I think we have a little creative license here. Gonna say that having a pack qualifies him to eventually assume alpha status? Maybe just not SUPER ALPHA WOLF SCOTT MCCALL type status, but alpha all the same. Or maybe he will be just as powerful/awesome. Time will tell. Cool? Cool.


	7. Chapter 7

 

“Not that I wouldn’t want a place in Stiles’ Pack, but how exactly is he supposed to just... be an alpha, Peter? Did you even bother to think this through?” Derek turned on his uncle as soon as the three of them had gone inside the burnt out house, once they were sure Scott was out of earshot.

  
“Yeah. I didn’t realize you could just, like, declare yourself an alpha. Or, well… Declare me an alpha.” Stiles sat on the floor in the middle of the room, looking up at the eldest werewolf quizzically. “Don’t I have to kill an alpha to get the power?”

  
Peter crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows, looking between the two younger men. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but our dear friend Scott has never killed an alpha, correct?” He started to pace the the room, his movements slow and casual. “All the alpha power is is a _spark_. And you, dear boy, had a Spark before you were Bitten. Quite a powerful one, from what I hear. I just guessed that your previous magical Spark could be manipulated into an alpha spark.”

  
Derek watched Peter carefully, his eyes narrow. “You’re only guessing. What if it doesn’t work like that? How can we know for sure?”

  
Peter raised his eyebrows at Derek. “Why, Derek, can’t you _feel_ it? Your sense of allegiance to your alpha? _I_ can.”

  
Derek glared, “Stiles has always been Pack, I’ve always felt loyal to him, even when I wanted to cave his face in.” He challenged. If he was honest, it did feel different now, but he couldn’t be sure if that was purely psychological or if Stiles really was becoming a true alpha.

  
“Hmm.” Peter shrugged lightly. “Perhaps then you aren’t truly one of his betas if you can’t feel his alpha power.”

  
Derek growled and tensed, “I am behind him one-hundred percent. I just want to make sure no one is rushing into things. I don’t want to see him fail because you pushed him into something he wasn’t ready for.”

  
“I’m not pushing him into anything,” Peter replied mildly. “I simply gave him another option beyond becoming an omega.”

  
“Could you two stop talking about me as though I’m not here?” Stiles growled, his eyes flashing. “I know you’re both older than me, but I am still apparently your alpha!”

  
Derek raised a brow, looking at Stiles closely. He _felt_ it, that time, there was no denying it. “... Yes, you are.” He noted, half to himself. “Okay... Stiles, are you sure this is what you really want?”

  
“Of course I’m not sure!” Stiles huffed, crossing his arms and falling back onto the dusty floor. “I wanted to be normal, remember? I wanted to get out of this- this circle of never ending danger. But apparently I’m an alpha now!”

  
“You don’t have to be, Stiles.” Derek spoke low, watching him. “But... he may be right, about your Spark. I doubt it’s just gone. I saw the potential in you just now... It’s definitely something to think about, Stiles.”

  
Stiles took a deep breath, closing his eyes and and trying to sink through the wooden floor of the house. “... I think it’s too late for going back now,” he muttered, covering his face. “I can _feel_ it too, you know. I can feel both of you and I feel strangely protective of you both which is weird because I know you both can take care of yourselves!”

  
Derek slid down to sit beside him, propping his arms on his knees, back to the wall. “I know how that feels... You’ll be a good alpha, Stiles. A strong one. With your Spark, you have a lot of potential. I’d say Peter was right, but I don’t think we need to feed his ego anymore so we’ll just skip that part.”

  
“ _You’re welcome_ ,” Peter shot back at Derek, moving to take a seat on a nearby piece of debris. “If someone hadn’t realized Stiles’ potential, things could have gone badly for him.” Derek barely bothered to respond past giving Peter his usual eyeroll.

  
Stiles uncovered his face solely to stick his tongue out at Peter. “I don’t know what to do now. I mean, apparently we have to decide on borders and… I should probably tell my dad that I’m an alpha…”

  
“Probably,” Derek nodded, “I’m sure he’ll be behind you one way or another. It’s good he already knows about the rest of this. Honestly, I’m surprised he’s taken it all so well.”  
Stiles nodded, though he groaned. “I should go tell him now… Before he finds out some other way.”

  
Derek nodded back beside him, “Do you want backup? We are your Pack now...”

  
“It might be better for me to tell him alone.” Stiles moved to sit up, groaning slightly. “Just in case he wants to shoot you guys. Or something. I don’t know.”

  
“We’ll be around, then.” Derek nodded in Stiles’ direction. “Let us know when you need us.”

  
Stiles nodded and pushed himself to his feet, stretching out his still sore muscles. “I just want to be normal,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “We’ll continue training later. See you guys.” He headed off, determined to just run all the way home to burn off some energy. Derek watched him go, then got up. He might take a run too.

 

 

Stiles was panting by the time he got to the police station, figuring that his father would be there. He stumbled into the doors and huffed, shoving them open a little harder than he meant to; the door slammed back into the wall and the officers on desk duty stopped in their work to stare at him.

  
“Sorry,” he muttered, shrinking in on himself slightly, his cheeks flushing. “Is my dad here?”

  
Deputy Parrish nodded, brow raised as if he wanted to ask a question, “... Yeah, he’s here. Go on back, he’s in his office.”

  
Stiles nodded his thanks and headed on back without another word, embarrassed at his carelessness. He’d have to remember to reign in his strength. He slipped into his father’s office and shut the door as softly as he could before collapsing in one of the seats across from the sheriff.

  
“... Life sucks.”

  
Sheriff Stilinski looked up from his work, “That bad, huh?”

  
“I just almost broke the door,” he huffed, letting his head fall forward onto the desk with a loud thump. “... And Scott interrupted training today.”

  
John put his pen down, settling back in his chair with crossed arms. “Yeah? I see you’re still in one piece, can I assume the same for Scott? You’re not covered in too much blood, that’s a good sign.”

  
Stiles looked down at himself before sighing. “No, most of that blood is my own. I would say that it was all my own, but I managed to draw some blood from Derek today. Training. While we were training.”

  
“Is there some other blood-drawing activity you two would be doing that I should be worried about?” John raised a brow, then thought better of it. He shook his head and held up his hands, “I think I should just quit while I’m ahead here... So,” He sighed and rubbed his temple, “What happened between you and Scott this time?”

  
Stiles blinked at his dad, his expression clearly unimpressed. “He could have tried to kill me, you never know. Though I doubt Derek would try to kill me.” He sighed and laid his head back down on the desk. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before answering the second, more important, question. “I told Scott I couldn’t be in his Pack right now.”

  
“Considering you two looked like a pair of teddy bears on the couch the other night, I wasn’t so worried about him killing you.” John snorted, shaking his head once more. “So... how did Scott take that? Not well, I gather.”

  
“ _Wolves_ , dad. We’re wolves. Not bears.” Stiles rolled his eyes, giving his dad a half-hearted smile before immediately dropping. “Scott was... hurt. To be expected, I guess. I almost attacked him, but Derek and Peter held me back.”

  
“That’s good...” John nodded, “You would have regretted it.” He noted with a sigh, “So... what now? I don’t really remember how all this Pack stuff works, but you don’t have to be in a pack, right?”

  
“No, I don’t have to be in a pack.” Stiles paused again. “But I am in a Pack. And I’m the Alpha. Derek and Peter are my betas.”

  
John leaned back in his chair, slackjawed and bobbing his head slowly as he took it in. “You’re an alpha.” He repeated slowly, “... how exactly did this come about?”

  
“I’m an alpha.” Stiles sat up straight and ran a hand through his hair tiredly, letting all the tension drain from his body. “Peter says my Spark may have shifted or something? To be honest, I wasn’t really paying attention. You can ask him about it. But there are now two werewolf packs in Beacon Hills.”

  
“So are you and Scott in a wolf turf war or something now? Don’t tell me we’re going werewolf West Side Story here or something... I don’t want to be cleaning up any more dead bodies than I have to and I _know_ you don’t want that either.”

  
Stiles snorted and shook his head. “God no. As much as I’m angry at Scott right now, he’s still my best friend. And the rest of his Pack are my friends. If fighting it out were the only option, I’d choose to leave rather than hurt them. No.” He sighed. “We’re going to divide the territory.”

  
“Sounds... diplomatic.” The sheriff nodded, drumming his fingers in the air in thought. “... We’re going to have to completely redo the chess board now, aren’t we?” He chuckled and leaned back in his chair. The two shared a smile, then John sighed and looked at his son. “I think you’ll be a good alpha, Stiles... but are you sure you’re ready for this? It’s just all happening so fast...”

  
Stiles let his own smile drop and he twisted his fingers around each other out of habit. “I don’t know that there’s much of a choice at this point. I think I accepted the alpha-ship-ness when I didn’t protest in front of Scott. And when I told him that we should divide territory.”

  
“I’d offer to help, but this seems a bit out of my reach. I think you’re doing what you can, and I think you’re gonna be just fine, son.” John smiled, reaching over to pat Stiles on the shoulder, “But you tell me if you need anything, got it? Nothing too big or small, kiddo.”

  
“Yeah, okay.” Stiles leaned into the touch and sighed softly. “I just wanted to be normal…”

  
“I know...” John sighed, “But you’re too great to be just normal. Even without all this supernatural stuff, Stiles... You never would have been ‘just normal’.” He gave Stiles a lopsided smile, patting his shoulder again. Thinking better of it, John got up and pulled Stiles into a solid embrace. “I’m proud of you, son. I know I don’t say it enough, but I am.”

  
Stiles wrapped his arms around his father, leaning against him heavily. “I think you’re doing that thing where you overestimate me,” he mumbled into his father’s shoulder. “I’m not great. I’m just… surviving.”

  
“You’re doing more than that, Stiles.” The sheriff smiled, “Just remember, being a werewolf, being an alpha... none of that defines you. It’s what you are, but it doesn’t have to change who you are.”

  
Stiles took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. But he didn’t say anything; he was tired of trying to explain that he had been changed to deaf ears. Instead, he squeezed his father carefully before stepping back. “... I think Parrish thinks I’m on drugs. Just to warn you.”

  
John snorted, “He’s got good intentions... I’ll straighten it out if he brings it up.” He promised, ruffling Stiles’ hair as he pulled away.

  
Stiles huffed and pulled away though he grinned at his father. “I’m going to head home. Have a meeting of the packs to determine boundaries and stuff. You gonna be late?”

  
“Probably. Don’t worry about dinner, go ahead and eat when you want. I’ll see you in the morning if not before.” He smiled back, “Go get ‘em, kiddo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tadaaaa! When in doubt, the answer is always MAGIC. Magic, and Sterek.

**Author's Note:**

> (So obviously given the things that are happening in the show, this is now AU, not speculation. But we like it and we're going to keep going because it's fun.)
> 
> Going to post when we can, not sure how many chapters it'll be but probably around 10-12? We have an ending in mind and we've role-played through most of the plot so it shouldn't be too difficult to pump out.


End file.
